


'till you've tried it

by autoluminescence



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Bondage, Breathplay, M/M, Overstimulation, PWP, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-26 19:36:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autoluminescence/pseuds/autoluminescence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, someone else needs to take over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'till you've tried it

**Author's Note:**

> Bears no relation to reality. The characters are based off of real people, but the actions of the characters have absolutely no connection to the actions of the actors. Please, for the love of all that is good in this world, do not conflate the two.

It’s been A Day.

Chris hasn’t sat down for more than 20 minutes, rushing from the set (where he wasted an interminably long time trying to barter down his crying scenes down from 4 to 3) to a meeting with his publisher (where he had to explain, again, that he couldn’t give fewer fucks if his book tapped into the needs of Glee’s core audience) to another interview (where he had to talk about the sheer magic that was working on such an _important_ and _groundbreaking_ and _influential_ series until he thought brain was going to crawl out through his nostrils).

He is so, so done. It’s exhausting, fighting so hard for every inch of sanity. Sometimes, someone else needs to take over.

Which brings him to Darren’s door, jiggling a six-pack in one hand and half his tie collection in the other, kicking at the door in frustration when his knocks don’t elicit any response.

“I’ll be right there!”

Chris rolls his eyes. Trust Darren to keep him waiting – this better not set the tone for the rest of the evening (though he can’t escape the small shiver that races down his spine at the memory of Darren keeping him on edge for hours, touches everywhere, undoing him until he couldn’t think through the desperate need crawling through every inch of his body).

Finally, Darren yanks the door open, and.

 _Oh._

That’s why there was a dely.

He’s apparently just emerged from the shower, barefoot and curls wild, a spare drop trailing down his jawline to fall off his chin. His shirt is clinging to his chest, almost transparent through the dampness and his jeans are hanging low on his hips and Chris needs this. Now.

“Oh, you brought beer? How did you know I just ran out? Seriously, Chris, you could go into mindre- mphhhh.”

The tales of Chris’ psychic prowess are lost as he yanks Darren’s shirt and shoves him against the wall, latching their mouths together with as much force as he can muster, pouring every bit of his shitty day out until all that’s left is the two of them, already breathless and panting against each other.

“Forget about the beer. This – I need – fuck, _please_ , Darren.” He pushes the ties into Darren’s hands, hoping that they’ll be able to say what he can’t manage.

Darren nods, understanding immediately. “But afterwards, we’ll talk, yeah? And I really am going to want some beer.”

“Yeah, yes, whatever you like, but this first. Right. Now.” He punctuates his words with kisses down Darren’s neck, desperate to lick up every spare droplet he can find.

“In my apartment 2 minutes and you’re already begging? I like where this is going. “ Darren pushes his chest back firmly, walking him backwards into his bedroom until his knees hit the bed and he topples down, splayed on his back.

“Less talking. More loosing-of-clothes.”

“Mmmm,” Darren agrees, unbuttoning Chris’ shirt far too slowly. “Wait. Do mine eyes deceive me? Is this an… undershirt-less Chris Colfer?” His eyes darken, and suddenly there are buttons being ripped loose as the shirt goes flying. “Fuck. _Chris_.”

Chris can’t help the jerk that wracks through his body as Darren’s hands slide up his sides, thumbs grazing over nipples as his callused fingertips dance over ribs.

“I’m never getting over your skin. So much, and smooth, and soft, and,” and apparently hands aren’t enough any more, because Darren’s mouth is all over his chest, sucking and biting and licking until Chris is a panting, gasping mess, bits of fire exploding from every place Darren puts his lips or his fingers or his tongue.

It’s still not quite right, though.

“Darren. Make it… I need you to-“ and Darren grips his shoulders and pushes him flat, sliding his arms up until Chris’ hands knock against the headboard. Chris gives a little twitch of anticipation, foot kicking out in random bursts.

Darren twists to grab the ties, stroking over the sensitive skin at Chris’ wrist. It’s like with every throb at his pulse point, the heat of Darren’s finger is leeched into his veins and shot though his entire system.

One tie twists around his right wrist and around the headboard. Darren repeats it on his left, and Chris gives an experimental tug, nearly sobbing with gratitude when he’s held firm. This, this right here, is what he needs.

Darren holds up the third tie, eyes questioning.

Chris lets his jaw drop open and nods. Darren groans, low, and reaches to lift his head enough to thread the tie underneath, letting it settle between Chris’ lips until he bites down. Darren knots it to the side and then sits back, admiring his handiwork.

Chris is trussed up tight, pulled by the ties and aching everywhere, desperate to let it all go. But Darren just caresses his face, fingers skating over his temples and eyes and cheekbones. Chris shudders as nails scrape his hairline, a soft squeak muffled by the tie as Darren runs his thumb over Chris’ lips, pressing down, letting Chris feel the pressure of the gag.

It’s still easy enough to breathe through his nose, but Chris lets it tighten his throat, restricting his airflow just enough until everything is slightly woozy and sparklingly at the edges. He hasn’t even been touched below the waist yet and his hips are lifting up in circles, desperate and uselessly grinding into air.

Darren slides himself down until he’s mouthing at Chris’ collarbone, biting at the thin skin, raising hot red marks out of the stretch of pale. He works his way slowly, nipping at a shoulder, scratching nails down Chris’ hypersensitive inner arms, stubble brushing against every bit of skin, licking his way down the center of Chris’ chest until he finally branches off to the side, capturing a nipple in his mouth.

Every touch shoots a path of electricity straight to the tip of his dick. As Darren teases his nipples, though, his body arches completely off the bed, pressing into Darren’s mouth and shouting himself horse through the gag. (And that’s why he needs it, really: he gets to pour out his neediness and desire and breathtaking arousal and it’s all OK).

Darren settles a thigh between his legs, and finally, _finally_ , Chris can get some friction on his aching cock, harsh through two layers of denim. He spreads his legs wantonly, wrapping his knees around as best he can. Darren thrusts down, timing his mouth and his hips together until Chris is shaking and shuddering, feeling gloriously sluttish as his whole body undulates with pleasure.

He’s being pulled in a million directions, the pressure on his wrists and chest and his dick and everything starts boiling in the pit of his stomach, twisting and turning it around until it finally _explodes_ , arms nearly snapping the ties and his bucking hips almost throwing Darren off as he comes.

(And _Darren hasn’t even taken his shirt off yet, fuck_.)

“ _Fuck_. So fucking hot, Chris.” There’s a buzzing somewhere in his brain as Darren wiggles back up, moaning praise and arousal in his ear. “Feeling you. Falling apart against me. I wanna do it again.” And with that, he’s reaching down to cup Chris’ crotch, unzipping the fly to slip inside, and it’s way way way too sensitive and too much and _perfect_.

“Is this OK?” Chris clenches his right fist and releases, their agreed-upon “green” signal for when his mouth is otherwise occupied.

With permission assured, Darren hops off the bed, pauses briefly by the nightstand to grab a handful of condoms and lube, and walks to the foot to tug off Chris’ pants and reaching up again to repeat with his briefs. Chris tries to lift his hips helpfully, but he’s still far too limp, worn out from his orgasm to manage more than a slight wiggle. It’s apparently sufficient, though, and soon enough warm hands are sliding up his bare calves, tickled by the light, curly hair covering his legs.  
He finally reaches the top of Chris’ thighs, stroking over his hipbones as Darren settles himself down in the V made of Chris’ legs. His cock is still spent and soft, but gives a definite stir of interest under Darren’s perusal.

“You look… covered in come and spread out for me, so beautiful-“ Darren noses down into his crotch, softly licking his balls and cock until Chris is half-hard again, starting to moan.

When it appears that Chris has been thoroughly cleaned off by Darren’s ministrations, the gentle licks turn into hard sucking; suction against his balls, his thighs, and finally, against the tip of his cock, drawing it into Darren’s mouth until he’s almost completely covered in tight, wet heat.

It’s still too sensitive to feel good, really, just pleasure-pain overloading his senses until he’s twitching all over, needing to get more and get away and he can’t even find a train of though, crazed and dizzy with sensation. Getting so close so fast is insane, he _just came_ , he’s not a fourteen-year-old or a girl, but Darren’s sucking like a madman and Chris can’t help but writhe desperately on the sheets, need crackling under his skin.

Darren keeps bobbing his head up and down, taking Chris in until he nearly chokes, and then backs off slowly, sucking so hard it feels like he’s trying to draw Chris’ orgasm out through sheer force. Letting Chris’ cock drop out of his mouth, Darren swipes his tongue over the head, then just stops, breathing hot air over wet skin. Chris tosses his head to the side and whines and shoves his hips up and is pretty sure he’ll die if Darren doesn’t put his mouth back on him _right the hell now_. Just when he thinks the ache might consume him whole, Darren engulfs him, deepthroating like a natural.

Chris starts shaking hard. He’s not getting nearly enough air through his nose and his vision is starting to blur again when he feels just the tip of a lubed finger (and when did Darren have the time to do that?) against his entrance, stroking lightly.

When Darren pushes in with his finger, jutting slightly in and out in time with his mouth, Chris’ _whole body jerks_ , bucking and jolting with pleasure. He’s caught between thrusting up into his mouth or down onto his finger, moaning helplessly into the gag as he’s assaulted from all sides. He’s utterly lost in the feeling, just a collection of needs and raw nerves, wholly unable to stop his thrashes and moans.

Darren pulls off with a wet pop and immediately starts jerking Chris, hard and fast and slicked by spit. “C’mon, Chris. Do it. Come for me.” He’s ruthless, hand a blur and thumb swiping over the slit, finger shoving inside and crooking until Chris makes a strangled attempt to gasp and shoots all over, exploding, coming and coming and unsure if he’ll ever get back down.

Still shaking with aftershocks, he finally shudders down to earth, wet with spit and sweat and his own come. He knows he must look completely wrecked, utterly broken down from two orgasms and so heavy, every inch of him pulling down into the mattress.

He’d be happy to drift off, but Darren, apparently, has other ideas. Swiping two fingers across the come spattered across Chris’ stomach, Darren reaches up, sliding under the tie and between his lips and fuck, this isn’t fair at all, Chris never should have exposed this one weakness, but it’s too late. He can’t help himself.

Darren’s fingers slide deeper into Chris’ mouth until he starts sucking desperately, tastes of himself and Darren merging and blending until he’s drowning in the potency of the combination. He tries to swirl his tongue over blunt nails and callused tips, but he’s hindered by the tie and his own lethargy, forced to garner what he can from suction alone.

Suddenly, Darren’s in his field of view again, beautifully naked skin on display and a frenzied, nearly frightened look on his face.

He looks like he’s on the verge of holding himself back from whatever he’s about to do (which would be incredibly stupid and tragic and an awful idea all-around), so Chris just nods vigorously, clenching and releasing his fist as emphatically as he can. Darren sometimes needs a reminder that chivalry can be wonderful, but now is neither the time nor the place.

A groan echoes through the room as Darren fists one hand in Chris’ hair and the other tightening on his hip. “You make me so crazy. All of you. Every bit.”

He’s rubbing up against Chris’ limp, spent body furiously, cock rutting between his legs and hard nipples pressing into his chest. Chris moans brokenly and wraps his legs around Darren’s waist, drawing him in closer.

If he’s being honest, this is his favorite part. He loves this, loves the feeling of Darren _using_ him to get off, wholly possessing his body for his own pleasure. He physically can’t come again, but he just lets the feeling wash over him, safe and needed and intoxicatingly desired, thrumming through his body, shaken with each of Darren’s powerful thrusts.

Darren’s babbling nonsense in his ear, “want you, yes, so hot for me and fucking _fuck_ Chris gonna-,” and his hips stutter in their rhythm (the phrase _friction that you need_ flitting unbidden through Chris’ mind) and he seizes all over, gripping Chris so hard it hurts his bones perfectly, coming in streaks all over his body and shouting his name, burning it into his ears and his skin and his eyes.

Rolling off, Darren huffs out a sound of pure awe and gets to work undoing the ties, letting Chris free. “You are amazing.” His shoulders and jaw are sore and his mouth is dry, and he has to swallow convulsively several times before he can speak.

“Thank you.”

Darren smiles softly, reaching over to gently stroke Chris’ face. “Better now?”

Chris grins and kisses him, an exaggerated “smooooch” making his point for him.

“Does that mean I get beer? And you can tell me about your day?” He has his puppy face on again, and Chris rolls his eyes affectionately.

“I didn’t even get it into the fridge! It’s probably warm by now.”

Unsurprisingly, this does nothing to dissuade the hopeful look on Darren’s face.

“Yeah, fine, get one for me, too.”

Permission granted, Darren yelps joyfully, leaping out of bed and running out of the bedroom  
buck-naked with surprising energy for someone who just made Chris come his brains out. Twice.

Chris chuckles quietly to himself. As it turned out, not quite such a terrible, horrible day, after all.


End file.
